


Faerie Charms

by TheGoddessWater (GreyJedi)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood, Cultural Traditions, Faeries - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyJedi/pseuds/TheGoddessWater
Summary: The charms are a rite of passage among his people, supposed to be a significant moment in his young life. It's a shame Marmaduke is too distracted to fully appreciate it.





	Faerie Charms

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a creative writing assignment, I'm excited to be able to share this little snippet of backstory for one of the characters from the book that I've been working on with FlamingDoritos.
> 
> The tag says Marmaduke Filé, but this takes place when he still goes by Marmaduke Hilarus.
> 
> Pronunciation help: Daoine = DEE-nah

He had always been fascinated by the little trios of beads hanging from around his parents’ necks. As a babe, he had swatted and grabbed at them with pudgy fingers, reaching for the cords and their dangling runes. He had asked about them many times, demanding to know when he would get his own. Always the answer had been the same: ‘when you’re older.’

-}(*){-

His tenth birthday arrived without a great deal of ceremony and he remained oblivious to the event that would take place that evening. Instead, he’d spent the day tormenting young Eglantia with his friends, only stopping when they realized that her tears were genuine. They’d cut their activities for the day short and agreed to go their separate, sheepish ways.

The serious expressions worn by his parents when he’d arrived home had unnerved him and he immediately began to make up excuses, saying that he hadn’t known that they were upsetting her, and that he’d already said he was sorry and couldn’t they stop treating him like he was the bad guy already? His father had told him to go get changed; they were going to see the Daoine.

This information did nothing to reassure the boy, it served only to heighten his sense of foreboding. He scoured his room for a clean shirt and a pair of pants not stained green with the streaky remains of some unsuspecting grass. The search took him longer than it should have, as he dragged his feet, contemplating what was doubtless to be a very uncomfortable end to his young life.

It had only been a bit of innocent teasing! Goddesses above… What did he need to see the Daoine for? It hadn’t been his idea. Well, perhaps it had, but that was beside the point.

His father bellowed. Time to go.

Even after the short walk over, Marmaduke hadn’t wanted to go inside, scuffing his boots on the ground and stalling as long as he could until his mother had taken him by the shoulders and shoved him into the hut of the Daoine.

Smoke stung his eyes and the scent of burning herbs assaulted his nose sending him gasping for air and gaining nothing more than a further lungful of the pungent vapours. He waved a hand, dispelling the clinging smoke from about his face.

All manner of strange things hung from the ceiling, bird skulls, bundles of plants that he couldn’t identify, and pouches whose contents he could only guess at. A chuckle from the other side of the hut drew his attention and held it fast. There, her back facing him, bluish tendrils of smoke wrapping her in ghostly fingers, stood the leader of his clan.

The Daoine was a hunched old crone of a faerie woman. She had long terrified Marmaduke, with her gnarled hands and milky eyes. He shrank back as she turned to him, her movements slows, her joints popping. She extended a hand as she neared him, tips of her fingers brushing over his cheeks, nails scraping uncomfortably on his skin. If he’d been able to move, he would have run, but terror held him fast, kept him tight in its clutches. She grinned a gap-toothed, yellow smile and he felt no better about the situation.

“Hilarus,” she said, “Has a tenyear really passed already?” The hand withdrew, motioned. “Sit, child.”

He knelt, never taking his terrified eyes from the sect leader. Her sightless eyes lifted and he bowed his head, ducking as though to ward off a blow. “Let your mind roam.” It took every ounce of willpower he had to hold still as her palm pressed to the top of his head, her fingers digging into his hair. With her free hand, she reached up and selected a leaf from one of the hanging bundles, crushing it and allowing the flakes to fall over his head.

Marmaduke sniffed. Sage? What sort of punishment was this? Maybe if he just held still, it would all be over soon...

He didn’t realize that he had closed his eyes until she commanded him to open them.

The Daoine was sitting across from him by then, three beads inlaid with runes nestled in her open palm. She drew forth a long, thin strip of leather and raised one of the marked beads, threading it on the cord.

How could she see what she was doing? How?

“Your centre,” she murmured, tying knots on either side of the bead to keep it from sliding. “The plant rune, for a child tied to the earth.” The second bead slid onto the leather. Another knot. “Luck. May it continue to favour you.” The third bead. The final knot. “Motion and change,” the Daoine said, “For the wandering soul harboured within you.” Her papery hands pressed the necklace into his palms. “These are your charms. Mark them well and they will keep you.”

He looked at the trinity of beads adorning the leather, studying the bizarre shapes. He lifted it, squinting at the item he now held. It looked just like his parents’ necklaces. With realization dawning far slower than he would ever admit to, he looked at his sect leader, his confusion outweighing his fear of her.

“Wait…” he said. “So I’m not in trouble?”


End file.
